What’s in a name? Success

By J. Patrick Coolican (contact)

Tuesday, March 21, 2006 | 8:18 a.m.

Hey Blackie: Chris G. called. She wants Pinky to talk to the Big O for her.

That's a plausible conversation in Nevada politics, where a name with a little color goes a long way. (Here's the translation: Hey former union chief Claude Evans: Assemblywoman Chris Giunchigliani called. She wants Sen. Harry Reid to talk to Las Vegas Mayor Oscar Goodman for her.)

The list of fun names and nicknames in Nevada politics is as long as it is diverse. There's Sig and Billy V., Frankie Sue and D. Taylor, Bob Beers and Tom Collins.

Nevada politics lends itself to more colorful names than one might find in other states, such as Utah, which has Sens. Bennett and Hatch (snooze).

On the national stage, we feel lucky if we even get two syllables out of a pol's name - Kerry, Cheney, Clinton. And though President Bush is said to enjoy giving out nicknames, they tend to be fraternity-lingo for his private use only.

Here, however, "They do have some cool names," said David Damore, a political science professor at UNLV.

"I think it's the good ol' boy network," he said, adding his explanation was no more than a guess.

Several Nevada political observers agreed, however. "What the people who've moved here in the last 20 or 30 years forget is that there's that nucleus of old-timers who still know each other," said Ralph Denton, a Nevada lawyer for half a century.

That small, at-times insular political culture lends itself to familiarity, which in turn lends itself to nicknaming, said Michael Green, the local historian and professor at the Community College of Southern Nevada.

Hence, Claude "Blackie" Evans, longtime head of the AFL-CIO, who earned his nickname from his dark complexion and wavy dark hair, which has since turned white. Or Ace Robison, former chairman of the state Republican Party. Ace is an old Mormon nickname, he said, without elaborating. And then there's Billy V., aka Billy Vassiliadis of R&R Partners, the "What happens here, stays here" ad campaign and all-around political fixer.

Southern Nevada also has been one of the more hospitable spots for immigrants, welcoming Irish, Mediterreanean, Slavic, Jewish and Italian immigrants, among many others.

"That's the generation who built Las Vegas in the '40s and '50s, so you had all this ethnic mix, and that tends to make the names more colorful and interesting," Green said.

In that group, you can throw in Billy V. again, but also former Attorney General Frankie Sue Del Papa, which is a heck of a lot of fun to say; state senator and gubernatorial candidate Dina Titus, which sounds regally Greek; and Chris G., or Giunchigliani, the assemblywoman running for the Clark County Commission.

"After awhile I said, 'Just call me Chris G.' " said Giunchiliani (pronounced Junekiliani.) "The whole point is making sure your name recognition is out there, so absolutely it's a form of marketing."

Indeed, a name is part of a political brand, Green said.

"Familiarity is important, and they have to be approachable," he said. "And there is something stark and forbidding about not having a nickname or a colloquial name."

In other words, a rose by any other name would not smell as sweet if it were named Kenneth Guinn, or William Vassiliadis or Sigmund Rogich.

So Kenny Guinn it is. (That also happens to be the governor's given name.)

"Our governor is Kenny Guinn, which sounds like he lives next door," said Alan Balboni, CCSN professor of history and political science.

There's also Danny Thompson, head of the AFL-CIO.

Kenny and Danny sound like they could be your Cousin Kenny or your Uncle Danny (and in Nevada politics, they might be.) Or, shorten Don Taylor of the Culinary Union to just D. Taylor. Or, make Donal Neil O'Callaghan, former governor and Sun editor, Mike. Then there are the names that just seem perfect for Vegas: state Sen. Bob Beers, who's running for governor. Or, Tom Collins, the county commissioner.

What's to explain these names? Who cares. They're just fun.